It's All About The Beer

I got back to my hotel room pretty late in the night. I was still wired so I decided to go down to the hotel bar and get a beer (Europeans are gearing up for the World Cup, and I've recently fallen in love with soccer!). I ordered my drink and returned to my room when I realized, "I'm every man's dream! I can order a Heineken in three languages [without a phrase book]! I hate shopping! I love sports! And I don't care how big my butt looks in what I'm wearing (it's just big...it doesn't matter what I'm wearing and I know it...I'm fine regardless!)" With that I had the Epiphany of a Lifetime: The Jack@$$ that recently told me that he can't commit to me is not just a jack@$$, but an idiot too! I had 3 proposals at the club tonight (3 more than I've had in the States). He just doesn't know what he's missing!

Originally, he was supposed to go on this trip with me, but he backed out (commitmentphobe that he is)...if he only knew that he could've had my big @$$, Heineken's paid for by men who were enamoured with me, and my love for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, he's all about himself (ahem), I mean, the beer [and he missed the beautiful woman in cream who's holding the beer...duh]!